Sweet Jesus! He had to clear his brain and resolve one issue at a time! There was no time for this prevarication. Complaining about the perils of his position was pointless. And pathetic. It was not the action of a man. Resolve the problems one by one, he told himself.
Arriving here, he had been passed a message from one of his men. The outlaws had been tracked down in the woods near where the body of the herald had been found. On the local keeper’s command, they had been cut down, almost to a man, and even though the survivors were questioned carefully before they were hanged, none knew anything at all about a man in king’s tunic who had been killed. Two had been able to walk, and had been taken to the spot where the body still lay, in the hope that they might recognise the location if not the corpse, but both denied all knowledge. There were some who would do that in the hope of life, but these two had no such false expectations. They knew that they would soon die.
No, if he had to guess, he would say that neither was involved in the death of Richard de Yatton. In which case, who was? And where was the King’s oil?
Despenser clenched his fists and slammed both down on the table. ‘Damn the bastard!’
He would find this thief, and when he did, he’d have the man paunched like a rabbit for putting him to all this trouble. Soon the King would be demanding to know what he had discovered, and being forced to admit that he had learned little was not good for his reputation nor his temper.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack was content with his own actions. There were some men whom he could not like, no matter what happened. It was irrational, certainly, but there were just some fellows who made him angry. And just as ridiculously, there were some who appeared not to deserve any interest at all, with whom he suddenly found himself fascinated.
This fellow Thomas was a perfect example. All he knew of Tom when he left Beaulieu was that the man was the brother of John of Bakewell, who had died in the abbey over there during the King’s coronation. Jack had heard that from the man himself. He was not concealing the fact, nor anything else, as far as Jack could tell. And yet Despenser had decided that Tom was interesting in some way. That could only mean that Despenser had some notion that the man had something of value. All knew Despenser’s reputation, and he wouldn’t put himself out unless there was something in it.
Not that Jack had any more idea what it might be than Tom. Both had discussed Despenser and his attack on Tom over evenings beside the fire, and yet they could not reach a conclusion. Jack wondered whether it could be something to do with the murder of the monk and the theft of the King’s oil. According to the herald, Despenser had asked about the oil and Canterbury. It made Jack interested.
What business such affairs were of Despenser’s, Jack didn’t know. Such things weren’t really any concern of his, and he preferred to keep out of the way of the rich and powerful like the Despenser. Still, he didn’t want to see a man like Tom die just because the fellow had been unlucky enough to be distrusted by Despenser. That was just plain unfair.
But life was unfair, of course.
Baldwin and Simon walked the short distance to the Exchequer, where they could see Bishop Stapledon chatting with a clerk.
‘Ah, Sir Baldwin, and Simon,’ he said. ‘I am glad you arrived safely.’
‘It is a journey we are growing accustomed to,’ Simon said, adding, ‘Sadly.’
‘Simon means, we’re not happy to be parted from our wives again,’ Baldwin said.
‘But you weren’t called to be a part of the council, were you? It’s not a parliament,’ the Bishop said.
‘No. We’re here because we were keen to avoid any more unpleasantness with Despenser,’ Simon said.
Stapledon gave a quick frown and shot a look at Baldwin, before walking from the hall and motioning to them both to follow him. ‘Simon, you must realise that language like that is exceedingly dangerous. Especially here, where you are effectively in his power base. You must not challenge a man like Despenser. And language like that is bound to be viewed by him as a challenge.’
‘He has tried to force me from my own house, Walter,’ Simon pointed out. ‘He petrified my wife, and then sent his henchman to my hall to threaten me!’
‘That is so, and I have already spoken to him and made it clear that I do not expect to hear of any more attempts on your property or life. I think he appreciates that it would be counter to his wishes to do it again.’
‘You think he’d back off that easily?’ Baldwin said.
‘I think that he did what he did to upset you, Baldwin. He doesn’t care about one property in Lydford. If he thought he could take over the whole town, that would be different. He would devote hours and many men to an adventure like that. He stole swathes of land from other lords to consolidate his Welsh lands, didn’t he? He rules the whole of the south of Wales now as a private fiefdom. But one house? No. He did that to annoy you, Baldwin, more than anything else.’
‘But why?’ Baldwin said, genuinely puzzled. ‘I have done little to him, in truth. If he wanted to harm me, I could perhaps understand that, but why try to distract me with Simon?’
‘As punishment for something you have done to him? I don’t know. In any case, while you both live within my see, I think he will leave you alone. If for no other reason than that he has other matters to concern him. As have we all,’ he added almost as an afterthought.
‘We just saw the King’s son,’ Simon said.
‘Oh, the Earl of Chester is here? That is good. Then we may begin to plan matters from here.’
‘What is in the offing?’ Baldwin asked.
‘The King is waiting to hear back from France on the state of negotiations. After the meetings here, he intends to send another embassy to the French with some suggestions. I think the French will insist, since they have the upper hand, but you never know. We won’t, anyway, until we receive a response. And then the King also wants to send a message to the Pope by the Bishop of Orange, pointing out the unfairness of this situation. He is justified, certainly.’
‘Will it work?’ Simon asked. ‘Would the Pope actually take his side in an argument against the French?’
‘No,’ the Bishop said bluntly. ‘But that won’t stop him trying. Meanwhile, we are forced to rely on the King’s wife.’
There was an eloquent pause after that. Baldwin himself wanted to wince to hear the Queen referred to in such a manner. From all he had seen of her, she was a perfectly responsible, dutiful wife. Certainly she had earned the love of her son, and Baldwin knew that many of her staff idolised her, and would hear no bad word against her. A woman who could inspire such adoration was not deserving of the Bishop’s ire.
‘She should be back before long, I suppose?’ he said after a moment.
‘Yes. Depending upon the negotiations over there, she could be home again within the month,’ Stapledon said.
‘Her son will be pleased to know that,’ Simon said.
‘Perhaps so. For the rest of us, her return will make matters more complicated, though. What is the King to do with her?’
‘Live with his wife as a man should,’ Baldwin said quietly. ‘And throw Despenser to the dogs.’
‘You think the King could govern on his own, while maintaining the peace of his realm?’ Stapledon hissed. ‘Baldwin, if Despenser goes, either the Queen will be controlling the government of the realm, assuming she and the King can make some kind of compact, or another baron like Despenser. Which would you trust to be in charge?’
‘Bishop, you may be right. But if it is another baron, at least there is a chance that he will be better than Despenser, and the Queen would undoubtedly be a great improvement. Do not forget, this is the man who just last week sent a man to petrify Simon’s wife. Do you honestly think that he could be better than anyone else?’